The Bowdoin Orient

Bowdoin students have favorites—a favorite dining hall, favorite professor and favorite a cappella group. I have a favorite door. The inside of the Chapel’s bathroom door is one that has always captivated me. It is covered with penned signatures of both alums and current students. Running my hand over someone’s etched out name, I think about what Bowdoin may have looked like five, 10, 20 years ago. I think about its purpose as a symbol for the Bowdoin community—that so many people felt enough of a connection to Bowdoin that they wanted a permanent reminder of their experiences here. I have not signed this door, yet, although I have come close many times. I have pulled out a sharp-pointed pen on several occasions only to be flooded with disappointment. As of today, I do not want my name on this door. For all that Bowdoin has provided me, there is something missing.

 There is something missing when racial slurs uttered during weekend nights are dismissed as isolated accidents: “People say all sorts of things when they’re drunk.”

When another white guy tells me what to do with my race—that I should not hide it nor should I be defined by it, there is something missing. 

When parts of campus I have relied on for support suddenly fall silent because my advocacy breaches their level of comfort. 

When my peers believe I should be stripped of my leadership positions for signing a document that aimed to illuminate the existing racial tensions present on campus.

When the College responds to activism at face value rather than digging down to the root cause—hurt, disenfranchisement and marginalization.

When countless prospective students have told me that what keeps them on the fence about coming to Bowdoin is the state of diversity on this campus—because 30 percent students of color doesn’t mean a whole lot when you’re in that 30 percent.

There is something missing when I hear students of color discussing their experience at Bowdoin reiterate some version of this sentiment: “This place has broken me.”

A culture of mutual compassion is missing. An intent to lead with curiosity is missing. An attitude of accepting mutual responsibility is missing. Bowdoin ought to do better. I have faith and a deep (albeit complicated) love for this college and all of its members—students, faculty, staff and administration. We must hold ourselves to higher standards to do better and seek more. We must work, listen and learn—and force ourselves to be uncomfortable in the process, especially to understand privilege as well as inequality.

I have been condemned in the past for not cushioning my criticisms of Bowdoin with a simultaneous commendation. To be clear, I am well aware of what Bowdoin provides its students, all of which I am grateful for. However, the danger of progress is complacency, an illusory belief that our work is done, and the silencing of dissenting voices.

This campus has produced countless glimmers of hope just this past year. Students have awoken from their slumber and something is stirring. This is evident in the multiple displays of solidarity and the many thought-provoking lecturers brought to campus. These events indicate that Bowdoin is capable of doing better.

I do believe that one day, I will sign the door in the Chapel. It will not happen this year. It may not even happen by the time I graduate. But one day in the future, someone will ask me: “What was your favorite thing about Bowdoin?” and I will answer: “There was a door in our Chapel that dozens, if not hundreds of Bowdoin students of all years signed.” And I’ll smile, knowing that my signature on that door means more than feeling part of the Polar Bear community—it will mean that the voices of students like me were heard.

Michelle Kruk is a member of the Class of 2016.

Esther Nunoo ’17 wrote this poem: “We talk a lot about talking here / Have a problem? Talk it out / Bad day? Talk about it / So I’m gonna talk / No disclaimers, no apologies / Outside of the “Undiscussed” or “A.D.D.R.E.S.S.” / Outside of the classroom/ No theories / Not just black girls over brunch offering solutions and ideas and “could be’s” / Just raw thought and feeling and emotion / Me being vulnerable and whatnot… / So let’s get real / Let’s talk.”

Let’s talk about the absence of culturally relevant pedagogy in schools. Gloria Ladson-Billings defines culturally relevant pedagogy as teaching which focuses on three things: focusing on students’ academic achievement, supporting students’ cultural competence, and promoting students’ socio-political consciousness.

Let’s talk about students’ academic achievement. All students can achieve academically. However, many teachers do not fully engage their students by demanding their participation—instead, they reinforce the idea of “permission to fail.” 

Ladson-Billings cites a teacher’s response to a young African American girl who refused to do a written assignment, saying: “I ain’t writin’ nuttin’!” The teacher responded by accepting the failure: “That’s OK. Maybe tomorrow.” 

There is nothing wrong with teachers empathizing with students of color who are struggling, but this empathy should not translate into lower expectations. Instead of demanding less from students of color, teachers should work to maintain their standards while looking to develop creative educational solutions that will better serve these students.

Now, let’s talk about cultural competence. Cultural competence brings students’ cultures of origin into the classroom so that they can explore their cultures, better understand their cultures, and gain a respect for their roots. 

Current teaching and learning forces students of color to detach themselves from their cultural identities, forcing a state of double-consciousness. This rifting of the “self” can be an incredibly difficult, if not traumatizing, experience for students of color who then must maintain a part of their “cultural” selves while at the same time hiding that aspect of their identities when in the presence of whiteness. 

When students of color see absolutely no representation of themselves in the material they are learning or in the people they are learning the material from, they can begin to internalize the idea that learning is not meant for minorities and is instead an exclusively “white” thing. Embracing cultural competence would allow students to reclaim their education and bring their entire, true selves into the classroom. 

Let’s talk about socio-political consciousness. Socio-political consciousness means helping students develop a sense of mutuality and reciprocity towards others with whom they share cultural solidarity. 

At Bowdoin, students learn to pose larger questions regarding the socio-political context in which schools and the society are positioned. This exploration can lead ultimately to the discovery of the structural and social inequities that continue to pervade our society. 

In order to enact any sort of permanent change, students must move past a “blaming the victim” mentality and instead search for the structural foundations that reproduce injustice. White students and students of color alike must understand that our current school system (and every other system) is structured for white students to succeed since it is predicated on eugenic ideology, which assumes the inferiority of people of color. 

Culturally relevant pedagogy is beneficial to both minority and white students. It is fairly clear how this would be advantageous to minority students. However, white students can grasp a wider and more diverse understanding of the world they live in, particularly the United States, where the number of minorities is rapidly increasing. 

White students can gain a better understanding of experiences and lifestyles that are different than their own, in addition to being exposed to different approaches toward complex situations. And all teachers, regardless of their race, can engage in culturally relevant pedagogy in their own way.

However, simply accepting who students are without being upfront with them about what society expects from them is setting these students up for failure. Minority students will greatly benefit from being able to bring their culture and language into the classroom. 

At the same time, they must be taught that society’s standards will not accept certain “minority practices.” You cannot write an academic paper in ebonics and you cannot introduce yourself to an employer by rolling your “Rs.” Instead, minority students must be taught that code-switching is an evil, but necessary skill to learn and perfect. 

While it is unfortunate that we must burden our students by telling them that society will not accept them for who they are, we must not only encourage minority students, but also provide them with the tools to navigate this white, inhospitable system. 

Students must feel supported throughout their educational journey in conjunction with knowing how to use their cultural knowledge to their advantage.

In her poem, “Talking about Talking,” Nunoo alludes to her realization that she is both privileged and unprivileged at the same time: “Yes, I am eternally grateful for the SAT prep / The college tours they took us on / And all the wonderful resources. / But it feels weird / To have your reality sold / In order to make it.”

This excerpt speaks to a feeling that many students of color will be forced to grapple with, and one that I have not been able to reconcile to this day. Inherently, in becoming a part of the educational system, particularly higher education, students of color will lose a part of themselves. 

I, like Esther, am eternally grateful for the circumstances that have allowed me to take part in the privilege that is Bowdoin. At the same time, in order to “make it,” I have let go, changed and sacrificed many aspects of my identity in order to truly become part of a system I hope to dismantle. This may be a feeling that will never truly go away. 

In the meantime, teachers of all races can begin to employ culturally relevant pedagogy in their classrooms so that students, like myself and Nunoo, have a chance to succeed. This chance is all that is needed for students to pave the way for others to reclaim their education and change the foundation of an oppressive system that could become capable of liberating masses of people. So, let’s keep talking.

Michelle Kruk is a member of the Class of 2016.